


This is Gonna Hurt

by FforFRANKY



Category: Altered Carbon (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, F/M, Filling In the Gaps, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Takeshi can get kinda in his head, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, filling in that sex scene from episode 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FforFRANKY/pseuds/FforFRANKY
Summary: Kovacs and Ortega finally get it on.





	This is Gonna Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Because there was no where near enough of that sex scene. 
> 
> 5000 words of rambling porn because why not. My first post so I apologise for... all of this basically. 
> 
> Completely un-beta'd so all faults are mine. 
> 
> Please enjoy and sink down this smut hole with me!!!

‘This is gonna hurt.’

She hadn’t been joking, the synthetic seal sure had a bite to it as it patched his flesh. As his sleeve worked to push out the unnatural fibres it would heal his body quickly and without infection. Probably wouldn’t even leave a scar, not like the sleeve needed any more of them. 

This sleeve. 

The way she looked at him, not him, but this face, this body, it was palpable. Christ, when he’d first been spun back up into these scum-filled streets, he’d felt the attraction rolling off her in waves. That’s why he’d taken her to that strip club, that’s why he’d invited her home with him that night. He’d thought he was just her type, no idea he was walking round with her boyfriend’s face on. 

‘Guess you stitched up Ryker a lot too?’

He hadn’t meant it as a question, but he was curious, about this man who was worthy of so much of her love. The Envoy intuition, scratching at the back of his mind, tells him it would be helpful to know more about the man who wore his sleeve, should he be stuck in another situation like Dimi-the-twin’s unhelpful psychotic break.

‘Someone had to.’

She’s working the pen slowly across his skin, and the pain has dulled to a rhythmic twinge, not unlike the pain of getting the tattoo just below it. He thinks about his family, everything he’s lost. The hole left by his mother doesn’t hurt anymore, even before he’d been put in the black for 250 years, that had healed over, restored by the love he had found in other places. But Rei, that hurt, Quell too. Fuck. Ortega seems lost in similar thoughts, Ryker is filling her mind till she’s about to overflow. He wants to help, as she simply moves on from the healed slice to the one on his chest.

‘Where’s this from?’

He doesn’t care, just wants to hear her talk. The familiarity, the care that slips into her voice, it’s so… appealing. And he can almost trick himself into thinking it’s about him as she looks at the sleeve, eyes barely needing to flick to the scar. She must know it like the back of her hand, the raised welts that crawl across his shoulder. She talks about some dealer on drugs. Same old, same old. He watches her face, so expressive even when she’s concentrating. She pulls away from him when she’s done, and he feels it like a gust of cold air. He misses the contact, but as she talks about Ryker saving the lives of that man’s family, he realises that he isn’t what Ortega wants. Ryker, whatever his problems, had been the good guy. Kovacs will always be the bad. 

But her hand is on him again, stroking the scar, the palm of her hand brushing against his nipple and he thinks that maybe this isn’t all lost. He brings his own hand up, as though to put it against hers, but instead points to a smaller scar close to his collar bone. Anything to keep her here, keep her talking, help fix the wound Ryker has left in her. 

She’s leaning on him with both hands now, wiping away the blood from his newly pathed flesh. He feels it again, that look, so full of caring, and comfort, and heat. He can’t help himself, his hand finds hers on his chest, and it feels so small in his. His birth sleeve had never felt this… big. But they both watched Ryker’s hand swallow Ortega’s, as though neither had any control. When her eyes met his he could see the struggle inside her mind, and begged, to whoever was listening, that she decide to stay with him. Whatever he does, he doesn’t want to ruin this moment. 

Of course, he does. 

‘When you look into my eyes, what do you see?’ 

He means it, he wants to know, wants to understand what is happening right now, in this mad cluster-fuck of an existence he has found himself in. He wants to know what Ortega wants. Kristin. 

‘They’re not your eyes.’ 

And god does it hurt. He’s an imposter in her boyfriend’s body. But that struggle is still there, it’s all he can see when he looks at her. She hasn’t pulled away, and he takes her hand and places it on the scar running across his brow bone. 

‘That one’s from me,’ she starts. 

Her hand has dropped down, and he knows the battle between Ryker and Kovacs in her head is only getting more confusing, more complex. But her thumb brushes his lips and it’s like an electric shock through his system. 

When he’d come out of the black his whole world had felt on fire, getting used to every old feeling again, and an eternity of new ones. Like he’d said, the body keeps making hormones. Those conversations he’d been trapped in, had a dull backdrop of throbbing desire. Particularly his drink with Ortega. And when he’d been robbed of his first chance to satisfy those needs by Dimi One, he’d been more than frustrated. He’d been furious. Miriam had been a welcome release, but with her everything had been… fuzzy. That damn secretion had left him feeling like he had ants crawling across his body. And sure it had been intense. It had been fucking amazing. But it hadn’t left him satisfied. Maybe that was because he could feel everything she could, and if there was one word he had to describe Miriam, it was insatiable. The fog hadn’t left his mind for hours, a frustrating cloud preventing him from stirring this crazy fucking murder around in his head, trying to see all the angles. 

Right now, nothing was fuzzy. Ortega was crystal clear. He looks into her eye and the moment, whatever it was, breaks. Fuck maybe he shouldn’t have been thinking about Miriam. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been thinking about Kristin. From the first time they’ve met, he’s always been thinking about her, in one way or another.  
She turns away from him 

‘This is a mistake.’ 

Fuck he knows that. Doesn’t mean it had to stop. But there’s tears in her voice. He needs to remember how insane this must be for her. His sleeve is not him, to her. Its Ryker. Everything is fucking Ryker, this place, this girl, this body. It’s all him, nothing is Kovacs. 

The sigh she lets out is not a happy one. 

‘When I look into his eyes, I see you looking back at me and… it’s been a long time since someone looked at me like that.’ 

Well, it wasn’t like he was trying to hide it. But the last person to look at her like he’s looking at her now, would have been him. If that isn’t a confusing situation to stick your dick into, he doesn’t know what is. Suddenly he’s sorry, sorry for wishing her into this situation, wishing her out of her clothes and into his lap, sorry for not even coming here, sorry for… everything. 

‘I’m sorry I’m not Elias’ is all he manages to get out. 

When she turns back to look at him, he thinks she’s angry. Thinks he has fucked this up monumentally, and he will not get another chance like this. 

‘Just shut the fuck up’ she hisses, before climbing on top of him. 

He was right, the kiss is angry. But he thinks that anger isn’t directed at him. It’s directed at this fucked up world where people can wander around in your boyfriend’s body, frame people for murder, back themselves until they never die. 

As she rises up to settle herself better onto his lap, it’s all he can do to kiss her back. She has a sense of urgency, of fighting against something as she turns her head this way and that, pulling at his lips. He doesn’t have that. It’s not like he doesn’t need her, fuck his cock’s already made its feelings known by trying to leap out of his pants the second he felt her weight being supported with simply his hands. But he doesn’t want to rush this, doesn’t want to throw her around like he did Miriam. He wants to… he doesn’t know what he wants. Take his time, feel every inch of this body, after all, it’s not fair, she clearly knows his intimately. He wants to worship her. 

He moves without even thinking, following her as she pulls away before diving in to another kiss. His hands slide across her arse before moving to the small of her back to support her. Conveniently, this seats her firmly on his now uncomfortable dick. Her tongue pushes into his mouth, easy and confident, like she’s done this a thousand times. There’s a small moment of tension when he doesn’t respond immediately, they’re both realising the disparity of the situation. But then he responds, tongue flicking across her lips, before she pulls his bottom lip into her teeth gently and drags her head back. Fuuck that’s good. He leans back against the chair, pitching his legs up slightly to tip her back towards him. His mouth bumps against her collarbone and he opens it to press hot, wet kisses across her skin, working up until he meets her neck. There he sucks, quick and sharp, before smiling into her skin at the sound of her gasp. Her fingers tangle into back of his short hair and she pulls his head back to crush her lips to his, only to immediately decide she wished she hadn’t stopped him. 

He returns to the spot on her neck , using the pull of her fingers, the scratch of her nails, to know when to suck, when to drag his teeth across the bruised flesh, and when to pull back and simply soothe it with his tongue. Kristin isn’t holding back, her knees have settled into a position of leverage on either side of him, and she’s using it to grind against his cock. 

It is sensational. It is… uncomfortable. 

‘Fuck’ he mutters into her skin, pulling in air through his teeth as the seam of her tight jeans tug at his cockhead, sending both pain and pleasure deep into his spine. She looks down and realises what the problem is immediately, tugging at the drawstrings of his trousers with urgency. 

‘Come on…’ she entices the knot into untying, but it doesn’t make much difference. The strain of his thighs, spread to give her a decent seat, along with his now undignified bulge, is creating a tightness that those drawstrings were not responsible for. 

He can see Kristin has set her mind to it though, and she hooks her fingers into the top of his pants before trying to simply drag them off him. 

‘Hey, hey…’ he says as he catches her hands and pulls them back up to his chest, placing them conveniently over his nipples before catching her mouth in his to distract her. He can feel her confusion, but she settles into it, shifting to riding his right thigh instead. He has plans for tonight that do not include falling over and smashing his face off the coffee table because he couldn’t wait get his pants off in the living room. He wants a bed, he wants pillows, and he doesn’t want a single piece of clothing getting in between them. 

For now he settles with pushing her vest-top out of the way in order to latch his lips around a nipple. He is confronted by bra, a comfortable, supportive, not-the-most-sexy-in-the-world bra. What did he expect? She’s a police officer. She does a hell of a lot more running around than the Meths that walk about in half a napkin and a belt. He hooks it out of the way and achieves his goal, swirling his tongue across her pebbled skin, coating it before pulling back to blow on it gently. 

‘Ah!’ she gasps, twisting away to glare down at him, but he doesn’t let her, smiling as he catches the nipple in his mouth and begins to gently massage, suck and twist it with his tongue. She huffs as though pretending she’s still mad at him, but the pull of her hands on the back of his neck tells him she’d be a lot madder if he stopped. 

The underwiring, however, has other ideas, and is now prodding him in the chin. He slides one hand easily up the back of her shirt to unhook the offending bra, before pulling back with the hopes of dragging it off. It seems in his rush he’d forgotten she was still actually wearing a top, the sleeves becoming tangled, momentarily covering her dark nipple from view again. We can’t have that. He tries to give up on his venture, pulling fabric aside to return his attention to her skin. She pushes him back, rolling her eyes before pulling both top and bra over her head. 

‘Seems you don’t have a problem with me taking my clothes off at least’ she breathes as he reaches hungrily for her, mouth now on the other breast whilst his fingers tweak and massage the first. A shiver runs through her, this time from more than just his ministrations. She’s cold. 

‘Sorry about this’ he grumbles, before promptly standing up. She wraps her legs around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but a small almost-shriek has escaped her lips and now she’s glaring. ‘Hey, if you’d taken my pants off, I wouldn’t have been able to do this’ he retorts, pulling her spread legs more firmly around him before supporting her weight with one arm. With the other he untangles her shirt, which was in danger of wrapping itself around his legs and tripping him up in a rather unappealing way. 

Clearly she doesn’t mind being manhandled, pulling his lips to hers again for a searing kiss that neither seem to want to end. But he hadn’t stood up purely to show off the sleeve’s strength, she knew that already. He had been aiming for a bedroom. Pity he doesn’t have a fucking clue where one is. 

He spies a clue, a sock, hastily discarded, in the doorway of a short, dark corridor. He heads for it, presuming she’ll either tell him if he’s wrong, or they can just fuck in the laundry room. Ryker doesn’t seem like a guy with a laundry room. 

He walks down the corridor, feeling for the doorway he’d glimpsed on his left. 

‘Nuh-uh’ she grunts, ‘end door’. 

Thankful, he walks swiftly to that door and pushes it open with his boot. 

A quick survey of the room directs him to the bed, and he promptly pushes her down gently against the pillows. She follows him as he pulls back until they are kneeling in front of one other, shirtless and panting. It’s a surreal moment, as their eyes meet, for the first time seeing simply them. There is no one else in the room. Ortega and Kovacs. Kristin and Takeshi. It feels strange, and just as he is about to sweep her into his arms to negate the tension, she moves first. She crawls, stealthily, across the bed. She looks amazing on her hands and knees, like a wild panther, sizing up prey, ready to strike. When her face is inches from his cock, now striving with all its might to be free of those loathsome trousers, she glances up at him. The look in her eyes is fucking torture. 

The second he feels her breath warm his cock, his eyes roll back into his head. He resists the urge to tangle his hands into her hair, unsure exactly of what she is looking for, waiting for her to make the decisive move. Her fingers trace the line where fabric meets skin, tugging gently, whilst her mouth continues to breath hotly against his bulge. 

‘Do I have your permission, this time?’ she says, her voice playful, but when her eyes meet his, there is a real question in her voice. She still doesn’t know how far he is willing to go with her. 

‘Fuck yes, give me a sec’ he says, rolling quickly off his knees to stand by the bed, before realising this might take slightly longer than he wants. He sits on the side of the bed to unlace his boots. They aren’t military, but that doesn’t make them any less fucking annoying to take on and off. He falls into the rhythm of unlacing them easily. Ortega becomes impatient. He has taken off one boot and is working on the second when she crawls onto the floor in front of him, impatiently pulling the knots from his fingers before simply yanking the boot from his foot. He stands, sliding his fingers under the edge of that frustrating fabric, before shimmying it down his thighs. His socks go with it, until he stands in front of her kneeling form, naked as the day he was sleeved. 

Her response is instant, one arm stretched across his stomach, the other behind his thighs, as she mouths at his freed cock. Her hot breath ghosts across his cockhead as she pulls back slightly, fist moving lightly up and down against him. He wanders why she’s slowed and looks down at that rich, dark hair. Instead he finds her eyes, and it’s like she’s mocking him. As he watches, her smile shifts and she leans forward and takes of much of him as she can in her mouth, and begins to swirl her tongue around him. 

‘Fuck’ he exhales, head lolling back, his thighs suddenly feeling unsteady. So she wants to be a tease? Two can play at that game. His hand tangles in her hair, pulling it back from her face so he can watch. She has let him fall from her mouth again, using the spit she left behind to help her hand rub him infuriatingly slowly. Her soft lips, that look like they were made for this and only this, stretch out as she suckles at the head, alternating between a series of licks, sucking and blowing air lightly across his slit. She makes an almost purring noise as the hand in her hair tightens, moving back just enough that the shortest strands are pulling. Given her responses so far, he decides his next move won’t be a problem. He looks down, memorising the scene in front of him. His fist is buried in her hair, but her focus is so intently on his cock it’s like she hasn’t even realised. As he watches, her tongue reaches out to rub just under his head, a sweet spot that blanks his mind for a moment. Her lips then come around, and she returns to sucking intently, her hand still moving at that same, slow pace. His thoughts return from the white noise she had caused, and he makes sure his hand is secure. Then, he slowly pulls away from her, bending to sit on the edge of her bed. His hand makes sure she can’t follow, and he nearly comes simply from watching his cock slip from her lips to bounce in front of her. 

Once he’s seated she crawls to follow him. He lets her hair fall back around her face. She reaches his knees and he spreads them wider for her, but instead of letting her return to his cock, he pulls her head back to his so he can kiss her, deep and full of heat. His hands slide to her breasts, too long out of his reach. She’s so wound up she’s sensitive, and she gasps into his mouth as he begins to play with her nipples again. He uses it as a distraction to pull her backwards, all he has to do is lie back on the bed and she crawls on top of him. He simply enjoys that for a while, hands roaming across her body as their kiss deepens. But he’s frustrated by her tight jeans, and after dipping his fingers under the fabric at the back to pull on her ass, he gives up and moves to the front to unbutton them. 

She sits up, knees spread on either side of his thighs, breasts swinging with the movement. He has to bring his attention back to the button, and brings his face down to mouth at the flesh he is revealing as he starts to wiggle them down her legs. Of course that isn’t going to work. She must have kicked her shoes off when he was carrying her, but still, she needed to be off her knees. Not a problem for this sleeve though, he simply hooked his hands around the backs of her thighs before lifting easily and spinning her onto her back. Ortega looks shocked as her head bounces off the pillows, but he doesn’t give her much time to think about it. He crawls back down her body before pulling the jeans from her body. He pulls her underwear off with them, doesn’t want clothes to be a problem anymore. He’s ready to feel her skin, all of it. 

She’s looking at him like she’s nervous, and he realises he is just staring at her. Her body is soft, yet toned, got to be fit in her line of work. The small line of dark curling hair in between her thighs is obviously well maintained, and he wanders whether she’d been expecting to get laid tonight. Saying that, Ryker’s sleeve seemed incapable of growing chest hair, maybe they lasered it off or something. He runs his hands of her shins and circles his wide fingers around her thighs. He can practically cover them. He meets her eyes as he bends his head to mouth up her leg, letting his tongue flick against her skin irregularly just to see her gasp. As he nears her crotch he moves even slower, bringing his thumb up to part her lips, sliding through the wetness there. His touch is light, and his mouth stays tantalisingly out of reach, now working over the crease where thigh meets torso. 

She wiggles slightly pushing her body down so that his thumb slips ever so slightly further inside her. It’s still enough to make her hitch her breath, and she’s staring at his face so intently he thinks he might have pissed her off again. He lets her take control for a moment, rolling her hips to build up some kind of friction. It’s amazing how little he’s done to get her this wound up. When he’d taken her panties off they’d been damp, and she was still so wet his thick thumb was covered. Finally, he gave her what she wanted, if only a little bit. He brought his mouth over to cover her clit, but instead of sealing on top of it, he breathed across her whilst his thumb began to push gently at her opening. She opened for it easily, and already her hands were tangled in his hair, trying to push his face down, grinding her crotch into his chin. He had to slip his other hand down to grab the base of his cock, pull himself back from the edge she seemed so keen to pull him over before they’d even got started. 

Without looking up, he spread her lips and kissed her clit. He’d made sure to be gentle, she may know his body but he had no idea what she liked. It was like an electric shock had gone through her, her back had arched, hands tightened and a sweet moan had slipped past her lips. Had it really been that long for her? Or was this just what she was like? He pushed a little harder with his tongue, letting it flick back and forth across her clit, slowly at first. He had to switch out his thumb for the middle finger of his hand, twisting it to reach up to her G spot. 

‘Fuck yes’ she groaned, ‘fuck… more…’ 

He didn’t exactly know what she wanted more of it, so he went with both. First he sped up his tongue, stopping intermittently to suck gently at her clit, which seemed to drive her very insane very fast. Then he pulled his finger out, which made her groan in disappointment and glare down at him like he’d just shot a child. He spread some of her wetness to another finger, and slowly slid it back in. She stretched easily to take it, and he made sure to keep his mouth working as a distraction. As he curled his fingers in time with his tongue she began to twist her head about, sweat suddenly beading on her skin. 

‘Don’t, don’t stop’ she said into the pillow she was now digging her teeth into. 

So he didn’t, watching her body for signs of when to speed up and when to back off. Within minutes her feet had curled underneath her and he pulled his hand off his cock to push her body to the bed. He didn’t stop as she came, only slowed. It lasted a long time, and he felt her cunt pulsing against his fingers, contracting tightly around them, making sure he kept them buried deep inside her. The noises she makes are everything he could have ever wanted, so much filthier than he expected. He slows and pulls away before he is in danger of hurting her over sensitive parts, and he finally meets her eyes. She looks… a mess. The top of her lip is sweaty, her hair has pushed itself into one big mass at the back of her head, and she is panting heavily. He can’t help himself, and crawls over her body to kiss her. The kiss is filled with no less heat for Ortega’s orgasm. In fact he can feel her legs behind his, pulling him closer to her. 

As his cock brushes against her cunt she twitches, and he pulls back slightly, waiting for the last dregs of the orgasm to leave her. He must have waited too long, because her hand reaches for his cock trying to guide it to her. And yes, he may have just given her what seemed to be a pretty intense orgasm, but fuck, he thought, as he looked down at her hand. It seemed small somehow. Ryker had serious girth, and fine he wouldn’t split her in two but he’d like to have had more than a couple of fingers in there to stretch her out first. 

He takes his cock from her hand, continuing to kiss her as he guides the cockhead in circles around her clit, precome mixing with her orgasm to help him glide. He lets go of his cock and replaces it with two fingers placed flat across her, rubbing gently from side to side. She’s frustrated that he’s changed the plan, again. But, she has learnt her lesson, and instead of pushing it, she flops back down onto the bed. The two fingers slide easily back into her, and he waits for her breathing to quicken before he slips in a third. It is a stretch, and he’s pleased he bothered. He takes it slow, but with his other hand still rubbing over her clit, her body smooths the way and soon he has three fingers buried inside her, curling up slightly at the end of each thrust. It is only once he can tell she’s getting close again that he pulls away. Not wanting to feel her frustration, he quickly leans across her, still on his knees, guiding his cock into her. 

It takes a long, slow thrust until he’s fully insider her. Her eyes have rolled back into her head and she’s panting, still riding the wave he’d been building in her. The angle isn’t easy, she needs a pillow under her hips or something, he realises, as he pulls out until he’s nearly slipping free, before plunging back into her. She must realise the same thing, but instead of grabbing the pillow, she pulls herself up to face him, tilting his body back. Now she’s seated on his lap, and oh my god does it feel incredible. Ortega rolls her hips, and it drags a hiss from both of them. He tries to help but really this is her show, all he can do is lean forward slightly, wrapping his arms around her waist to support her. Her hand has slid back to support her own weight, and give her leverage to grind his cock into her. They stay like that for a moment, just staring into one another’s eyes as pleasure shoots through the both of them. He realises that she’s probably seeing him. Not Ryker, but Takeshi. It pulls at his chest, and he has to break the eye contact by rolling her back onto the pillows with a forceful kiss. He uses his knees as leverage and begins to fuck her quick and hard. 

Their lips rarely meet, instead they are breathing against one another, Ortega’s legs pulling at his ass, wanting him deeper inside her. His lips find her nipple as he follows her insistence nudges, making sure that every thrust is as long as possible, pulling all the way out before pushing back in fast. Her head has slipped to the corner of the bed, no longer supported by the pillows, and she moans with each thrust into his ear. It feels insane, knowing he is making all of these breathy pants slip out of her. It doesn’t take too long before she’s going to cum again. He doesn’t know what makes him do it, but he pulls back, spreading one palm across her face to make sure that their eyes are locked. As she cums from the persistent pounding of his cock against her G spot, neither of them blink, until all of a sudden her eyes close and tears leak out the side, running back to meet her hairline. 

He pulls back like she’s bitten him, no idea how to cope with that level of emotion. 

‘Don’t’ she says, following him, her hands reaching out to pull her eyes back to his. 

‘Don’t’ she breathes again, letting her fingers trace the edges of his face, across the fresh cuts and bruises. It’s intense, and suddenly he feels like he’s seeing a lot more of Ortega than he has before. It’s a strange and gentle moment, especially considering his cock is still pressed against her. They kiss for a long time, slowly letting time pick back up after freezing for a moment between them. This time she is forceful, pushing him back against the bed behind him until his head is hanging off. She straddles him, guiding his cock into her with her hands as she seats herself on him. He’s been holding back on coming for so long now that it has almost become a physical pain. He focusses on the feeling of her tight body sliding over him, and looks between them at the place where their bodies meet, watching in wonder as she stretches around him. His eyes travel up her perfect body, and she’s looking off into the middle distance somewhere, clearly focussing on the feeling. He has to bring his hands to her hips and move her faster, worried about how quickly he’s going to cum. Already his balls have tightened and he can feel the pressure building in his spine. She reads his urgency, fingers sliding down in between her legs, moving quickly and in time with his thrusts against her clit. Sweat slips across her chest, and he promises to spend hours after this just enjoying her tits, bouncing so perfectly in front of him. He feels her twitch, and his toes are curling. He lifts his knees, put pressure on his feet to piston into her, and as she throws her head back in a moan he feels his body focus in on that one spot in the pit of his stomach before exploding out through his cock. He pulses into her, fingers clenched so tightly into her thighs that he knows it’s going to leave a mark. 

As the last of her orgasm leaves her she slumps against his chest. He pulls himself back onto the bed, careful not to dislodge her. She lies across him, fingers tracing where she had patched him up not so long ago. Her eyes are open, staring into his, and he realises he’s still inside her. But her eyes are fluttering closed, her fingers stilling, and he doesn’t want to disturb her. He doesn’t know how long they lie like that, intertwined with one another, but he knows one thing. 

He doesn’t want it to end.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Any and all feedback is much appreciated!


End file.
